Wonderful
by HornyBitch
Summary: Faye comes back to the Bebop after blowing off some steam only to get in a fight with Spike. Why can't they get along? Will they ever be able to? As always, please R&R. Thanks! ^.~
1. Temporary Insanity

Wonderful

By: Celtic Fang

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. I don't even own the episodes of Bebop I've seen. I have to rent them. ^^;

Warnings: Some cursing but no more lemon, just lime. :( It's okay though. Hopefully this story can still be good. We'll see anyway, won't we? ^^; 

A/N: Well y'all, I can't say that I agree with the direction that FFN has taken, then again I can't really argue. People were getting a little crazy with their lemons and they were very accessible to the underage. Then again, authors should not be blamed for the irresponsible actions of some children and I think it would have been in the better interests of the parents to 1) monitor the net time of their kids more carefully if they were so worried and 2) to cease coming to FFN instead of punishing us because they were offended. Anyway, sorry for that little speech, but like I said, I don't really agree. Anyway, I was forced to rewrite my story, and so, here is chapter one, revised with no lemon. ::sniff:: Oh the pain . . . 

  
  


Chapter One: 

Temporary Insanity 

  
  


"You're too tense. You need to relax a little bit."

Faye Valentine glared up at Spike Spiegle and sighed in frustration. "So what, genius? You want me to run at a guy with hands limper than the noodles Jet made for dinner last night? Yeah, that'll get the job done."

He glared down at her as well. "I didn't say 'limp', I said 'relax'."

"And there's a difference?"

"Yeah, Faye, actually there is. Limp implies disorder or 'messiness'. I don't fight messy. I fight fluid."

She nodded. "Oh." She said sarcastically. "It's all clear now. I'm supposed to be fluid, not limp."

"Right."

She held her clenched hands in front of her face and worked to make them less . . . clenched. It didn't work.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that? Fluid not limp my ass. That's impossible!"

"I can do it." Spike said, his voice laced with amusement at her predicament. 

"Well excuse me, but we can't all be like Mr. Spike Spiegel Perfect!"

He glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. "You think I'm perfect."

She growled up at him. "I never said that. I was being sarcastic." 

The look in his eyes said that he didn't believe her. She sighed again.

"Why are we even doing this?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling him with one of her specialty, I'm-completely-fed-up-and-it's-all-your-fault looks. "I can defend myself."

Spike held out both hands in front of his body in an 'I surrender' gesture and shook his head. 

"Hey, don't look at me like that. It's not like this was my idea. Jet just figured you'd screw up less if you didn't rely so much on that gun of yours and got proper training."

"Who said I didn't get proper training?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

His own lifted in a high arc.

"Why, my dear, I believe it was you. You were bragging one day and announced to the entire crew that you had taught yourself to fight."

She couldn't really argue, and they both knew it. But they also both knew she wouldn't give up. She didn't like this whole tutoring session idea and when Faye didn't like something, she voiced her opinion. Loudly.

"And I suppose that you are the one who is to teach me to fight so that I don't rely on that damned gun of mine?" She inquired.

"Like I said, Jet's idea. Not mine. He thinks you'd be better off if you could fight even a little bit like I do."

"So he wants me to, what, become a kung-fu fighting ballerina like you?"

"I resent that." He muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "So, men are idiots and babies. Go figure." She put both hands behind her neck, lacing her fingers to cup the back of her head, and raised her eyebrows at him. "Okay then. You're the expert fluid boy. Tell me how I'm supposed to do this."

He glared at her and sighed. "You're right. It's not that easy. Most people naturally tense up when attacking. Which is why being fluid in your movements can give you an advantage. They're tense, you're calm. They attack you with excessive force and you control that force through fluid motion. To do this you need to relax your body so that it reacts without resistance. Without thought."

Faye dropped her hands and stared at Spike with wide eyes. There was something in the way he'd explained it that made his words seem poetic. Like . . . She didn't really know what they were like. They were just beautiful. In a Spike Spiegel sort of way anyway. Still, no matter how beautiful the words sounded, she still didn't get it. And she told him so.

He rolled his eyes. "What do you mean you still don't get it? I just explained it didn't I?"

"Well, yeah. But stuff like this is easy to you. I'm not fluid or anything like that. When I fight, it's not with the thought 'don't think, be fluid' floating around in my head. The thought's more like 'kill or be killed'."

He frowned at her in confusion.

"What?"

She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain."

"Try me."

She snorted.

"No thank you. You wouldn't understand anyway."

He leveled her with a hard stare. She sighed.

"Okay fine. The short of it is, I only fight well when my survival instinct kicks in. Until that happens, I can't . . . do much. But it doesn't matter. Like I said. I can defend myself."

He continued to stare at her until she got uncomfortable and fidgeted. 

"Come on Spike, it's pointless. I'm hard and rough with all jagged edges, there's no way I can be fluid."

He sighed and shook his head but reached down and took his shirt off. For a second all Faye could do was stare in awe at his body, but then she looked up at him and frowned.

"What's this about?" She asked.

"Attack me." He said. 

She laughed.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Attack me." He repeated slowly, sounding out every syllable.

She shook her head.

"Oh no. No way am I fighting with . . ."

Her sentence was interrupted by an uppercut punch that connected soundly with her jaw. She almost forgot to roll with it, but did. Unfortunately, it was no sissy punch and she went flying backward a few feet, landing unceremoniously on her butt.

"What the hell was that for?" She asked angrily, standing up and glaring at him.

His lips were turned up in a crooked smile as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. 

"You won't attack me so I'll attack you. Maybe if you're lucky that survival instinct will kick in."

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"This is bullshit Spike. What the hell's the . . ."

Again he interrupted her sentence, this time with a feigned punch directed at her face. She didn't realize it was a feint until she felt all the air rush from her lungs and realized he'd hit her in the stomach instead. It took her a moment to catch her breath. In fact, she never really got a chance to. Because two seconds later she sensed his foot coming in from the right. 

She could practically feel someone else take over her body and she rolled to the left and to her feet. Her chest heaved underneath the white t-shirt she wore as she gasped for breath and crouched into a stance that better prepared her his next attack. She felt, more than saw it coming, and dodged, her fist flying in the direction of his solar plexus. 

He blocked, grabbing her wrist and attempting to twist it. She took that opportunity to sweep his legs out from underneath him with one of her own and jumped back the minute his grip loosened. He bounced back from the ground before she could even think of what to do next, which left her grasping at all the attacks she knew. 

They stared at each other for a moment, both of them contemplating what to do and what would be done next. A split second later Spike came at her. For being fluid, she found his attack pretty easy to see through and sidestepped him, bring her leg up and around, her heel heading for his temple. 

She thought she'd won. Which was, perhaps, too much to wish for. Because in the next moment she was on her back and staring up into Spike's russet eyes.

"You held back." She managed to get out.

He sat next to her and shrugged.

"It was an assessment test. Besides," he said with a sidelong glance and a grin. "I didn't want to kill you."

She growled low in her throat and launched herself at him with a cry.

"You son of a . . ."

"Now, now Faye." Spike said, catching her deftly in his arms and rolling her back onto her back. "You should really watch the language."

"Like hell I will." She told him. "I can't believe you went easy on me!"

He looked down at her, amused but serious at the same time.

"I just wanted to know about your little survival instinct." He said. "But you aren't as bad as Jet makes you out to be."

She rolled her eyes.

"He's just mad because Cal beat me that one time and robbed him of such a talented partner."

Spike sat up with a sigh.

"Right. Cal."

Faye sat up, her eyebrows raised.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think I heard the great, aloof and detached Spike sound a little resentful. Well, aloof unless you utter certain names."

"Now who's resentful?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Why should I be resentful? It's not like they had anything that I don't."

He looked at her, his eyes once again glinting with amusement. She frowned.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Give me a reason." He told her.

"Or what?"

His smile turned decidedly mischievous.

"Or maybe I'll torture you to get it out of you."

And then Spike did something completely uncharacteristic. He *tickled* Faye. She squealed and started cursing at the top of her lungs.

"Shit! Knock it off Spike! Come on! This is not fucking funny okay?"

But he didn't stop until she stopped yelling and instead laughed loudly and pushed vainly at his hands. Eventually she knocked his arm out from beneath him and he fell on top of her. She was still laughing, although he could see her eyes glinting slightly, almost in fascination. 

"What was that about?" She asked.

He shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I don't know."

"It was definitely different." 

"Yeah."

She cocked her head to the side.

"I think I liked it." She admitted, almost silently.

He didn't answer. He just stared down at her, the smile disappearing and his eyes darkening. It was then she realized that her arms were around him, holding him against her. She blushed and was about to let him go when he captured her lips with his.

  
  


~*~ 

  
  


Spike didn't know what the hell he was doing. Well, not entirely true. He was kissing. But it was the person he was kissing that confused him. Because his lips were pressed against Faye Valentine's. And he didn't know why he was doing it.

He could remember his pleasant surprise when they'd fought. His amazement that she could fight the way she did. Especially considering her clumsy tendencies and the fact that she could never seem to stay on her feet whenever Ein was lying on the ground somewhere. He'd wanted to laugh at the way her fighting style reflected her rash, quick thinking and temperamental nature. He hadn't been able to hide his amusement at her indignation because he'd gone easy on her. 

But the thoughts . . . he'd looked at her lying on the floor flushed, her eyes glittering with anger and her chest rising quickly in cadence to her breathing and he'd thought she was beautiful. More beautiful than he'd ever seen her. He'd wanted to shake his head the minute that thought popped into his head. Faye? The tomboyish woman with attitude? The bane of his life and the biggest annoyance he'd ever had to deal with on a day to day basis beautiful? Was he going insane? 

Well, considering the fact that he was freaking *kissing* her than yeah he was insane. He was completely certifiable.

  
  


~*~ 

  
  


What were they doing? It was insane. It was impossible. It was wonderful. It was so right. Faye didn't know what had happened, but one moment Spike was looking down at her, just staring, and the next he was kissing her. And she'd never felt anything so wonderful. 

She felt his tongue glide slowly across her lips and she opened her mouth wider to let him in. She gasped and tightened the grip of her hands around his neck. What was he doing to her? She'd never felt this way before. All of her nerves were on fire and heat was pooling in places heat had no business in pooling.

His tongue delved deeper into her mouth, coaxing her own into a dance. She slid her tongue along his hesitantly and was spurned on as Spike's arms around her waist tightened. He tore his lips from hers finally, only to dot hot, wet kisses along her jawbone and then down her throat. She sighed and allowed her head to loll back on her shoulders, allowing him better access to the skin there.

She felt him nip at the area of flesh where her pulse was fluttering wildly and then soothe the spot with his tongue. But then he stopped and leaned up to look down at her. She wasn't sure if he was waiting to see if she was okay with this or not. Frankly she didn't care as long as he didn't stop. And she told him so.

"Don't stop." She told him breathlessly, her eyes practically begging him not quit now. 

And he didn't. Only it seemed that when it was over he wished he had. Once they could draw in breaths easier, Spike sat up, pulling Faye with him. 

He handed her her clothes and they got dressed in silence. She brushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes and glanced up at him. She didn't like the way he was suddenly looking down at her.

"What?" She asked softly.

"We shouldn't have done that." He said.

She just stared at him. How could he even say that? After what had happened between them just minutes before? How could he?

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"But I want it to happen again!" Fay cried. "That was . . . God that was fucking incredible! I never imagined it could . . . that I . . . that you could . . . I just never thought it could be that way between two people. Don't you feel that way?"

He shook his head. "No Faye. It was sex. Chalk this whole night up to nothing more than temporary insanity but remember, it was just sex. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just meaningless sex."

She winched, wanting to ask him how he could say that, but the look in his eyes spelled it out for her. Julia. 

"She's dead Spike." She whispered softly. "Just like you almost were. Just like Vicious is. Let it go! Why can't you fucking let it go?"

He stared down at her for a moment before turning to leave. "I don't know what you're talking about." He said on his way out. "They'll never die. They'll always haunt me, even in my dreams."

Faye watched him walk out before sinking to the floor, a tear slipping down her cheek. 

"Damn you Julia." She whispered. "Damn you Vicious." And then louder. "Damn you Spike Spiegel. How dare you make me love you like this, huh? How dare you?"

And then she couldn't hold it in anymore and the floodgates opened, and she cried and cried until she fell asleep. 

She didn't notice it when Spike carried her back to her own room. And she didn't hear his uttered apology or his nearly silent confession of love. She just slept on, and when he turned to leave her room, she didn't hear him say . . .

Sweet Dreams Space Cowgirl 

A/N: Aargh!!! It sucks doesn't it? Oh the OOCness. I don't know what possessed me! Hmm. . . maybe I should just chalk it all up to temporary insanity. :p Well even if it's the crappiest story ever written, I'm posting it anyway. I love this story too much to be beaten by some stupid new policy. ^.~ Those of you who remember where this story left off will be happy to know that I finished the chapter after that. I've got one more left. But I need to get rid of the other lemon, which shouldn't be too hard, before the rest of this story goes up. Please R&R. I love you all! ^.^ Oh, and the rest of the story shouldn't change as drastically as this one did. But I had to rewrite it so that it stuck pretty close to the original but without the detailed sex scene. Don't know how I did though. ^^;


	2. Mad Catharsis

Wonderful

By: Celtic Fang

Disclaimer: Oh yeah. I own Cowboy Bebop. Uh-huh. *Right*. And I'm also Duo Maxwell's girlfriend and Ranma Saotome's my cousin . . . Well, hopefully you get the gist of it. I don't own Bebop. I don't own anything. I'm broke I tell you! Broke! Oh the pain, the agony! Okay, I'm done. All that melodrama was giving me a headache ^^;

A/N: Well, here's the second chapter. Not much has changed in this one (thank God). I added a paragraph but that's pretty much it. Anyway, please R&R. I'll love you for it, I promise! LoL. J/K. ^.~

  
  


Chapter Two: Mad Catharsis

  
  


I want to stop thinking about him.

But I can't.

I shouldn't be staring at him.

But I do.

I'm so freaking pathetic I make myself sick.

But in a twisted way,

I like it.

  
  


Sleep. What was it about sleep that could comfort a person so? Why did sleep always seem like the best way out of a horrible situation? Someone optimistic could say it was because it was a way to escape to a happier place. A brighter land with sunshine and daisies and singing animals.

Someone cynical would say because it was a replacement for death. The only way to die without dying. A means of shutting off one's mind and fooling their bodies until they actually believed they were dead. And then they could breathe easy because they weren't going to wake up in the morning. Or so they convinced themselves.

But they did wake up. And they had to face another day, and when they looked in the mirror they had to face themselves as well. They had to face other humans when all they really wanted was to stay away from them. And they had to face their actions of the previous night, in whatever form they may have been.

Maybe they'd eaten some bad fish, or had consumed more than their share of straight vodka from a water bottle, or had had mind-blowing sex with someone and regretted it. Or the other person regretted it. Anyway you slice it, they still had to face the consequences, mentally, physically, or emotionally.

Which is probably why sleep is really so comforting. You can disappear to a faraway land, or you can die. But most importantly, you don't have to think about anything on a conscious level. You don't have to feel on a conscious level. And when you don't have to feel on a conscious level, you can't feel guilty. You can't feel emotional distress. And you can't cry.

And even when dreams of a forgotten past haunt you, or memories of the night before plague you, you can force them away. It's the one time that your subconscious and your conscious do an intricate dance and one can control the other. And when you begin to feel anything remotely upsetting, you can push it away and die again. Or visit the singing animals again.

And you don't ever have to feel anything.

Sleep was becoming a foreign word to Faye. She hadn't slept in over, oh, she wasn't quite sure, but at least forty-eight hours. And God was she feeling it. Maybe not so much physically, she knew she didn't need the sleep physically. But mentally? Yeah, she was feeling it all right.

Funny thing was, she didn't care anymore. Because the time when her mind would have told her to care wasn't coming. Those moments when her heart actually gave a fuck weren't happening, and the truth of the matter was, Faye could have been shot right through the heart then, and left to die a slow painful death, and she would have laughed.

'I'm a freaking lunatic.' She thought to herself as she took a long drag from her cigarette and then exhaled, the acrid smoke curling around her face. 

Well, of course she was a lunatic. Was there ever any doubt? But then, it had never really been a proven fact. Not until just days ago when she had had 'meaningless sex' with the man of her proverbial dreams. Quotation marks around the word 'dreams' because Faye Valentine didn't dream. It was a waste of subconscious energy, in her opinion.

Yep, she was so lunatic it wasn't even funny anymore. 

'Stupid idiot.' she thought to herself, taking another drag. 'You just had to do it didn't you? Fall in love with that puffy-haired, cruel, sadistic, masochist of a man. And you like it don't you? You like being in love with him. God, that whole masochism thing must be contagious.'

'And just what was that whole 'meaningless sex' thing about anyway?' She wondered, her mind drifting. Meaningless her ass. She knew enough to know when something had absolutely no point to it. And what had happened between her and Spike had definitely had a point. But try convincing Mr. Spike I'm-In-Love-With-A-Dead-Broad Spiegel of that. 

Faye slouched even further on the stool she was seated on and snubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray next to her. 

She couldn't believe it. She'd left the Bebop nearly three days before to get some rest and catch a bounty. And most importantly, to stop thinking about Spike. But she hadn't rested, there were no bounties, and couldn't stop thinking about him. Or remembering what had happened. And it was driving her insane. Hell, even smoking didn't have the same calming effect as usual. It just made her more wired and antsy.

"Hey babe, want a drink?" 

Faye grimaced and then glanced up at the man behind her. 

"No thanks." She said. "I don't drink." 

And she didn't. Anymore. She'd learned that strange things happened when a person drank too much. Like opening yourself up to a man who was really a woman but not really because it was only a side-affect from some seriously screwed up medication. Or blacking out in the bathroom and then waking up with your head in the toilet. Okay, so that had been the mushrooms but the thing with Gren . . . well, that had been bad enough. She didn't want to find herself dead the next time she got drunk and started running off her huge mouth. So, she didn't drink.

Still, the guy didn't seem to want to take no for an answer.

"Come on baby." He said in an oily voice that matched the oily appearance of his black hair.

"No, really. I don't drink. Now leave me alone. Please." She added as an afterthought.

"Don't be such a stiff." He said. "I know that under those clothes you're hot and itchin' for some action. I can give you everything you need and more." He waggled his slicked eyebrows at her.

Faye's lip curled and she stood up, looking down her nose at the short guy. "I told you I don't want a drink. And I don't want your services either, you pervert. Now do me a favor, and go offer your pathetic self to a blind drag queen who'll actually have you."

She made her way out of the bar and into the night-light of Venus. She had just taken in a deep breath of the hot, desert air, when she heard several footsteps behind her. 

She turned around and sighed. "Oh look." She muttered under her breath. "It's the grease-bag scumball who couldn't take a hint."

He glared at her. "Listen you bitch. You don't come waltzing into a bar dressed like that and then refuse a guy of what he wants."

"You think this is scantily clad?" She asked, fingering her spaghetti strapped tank top and tight black shorts. "You should have seen what I wore before I figured out I hate the color yellow."

He growled at her. "Shut up!" He yelled. "Now, you're going to be a good little slut and put out for me and then my friends." He said, indicating the leering ignoramuses behind him. "And you're going to do whatever we want you to."

Okay, so Faye could handle being leered at and harassed. She could even handle having her intense and deep thoughts interrupted by this peon minded fool. But what she could not, and would never, forgive, was being stereotyped as a slut. As easy. Because, as she'd heard in a song from the twentieth century somewhere, she wasn't anybody's ho.

She glared at the man before her and then crossed her arms over her chest.

"Listen, bitch." She said. "I'm giving you and your dogs to the count of three before I get beyond pissed off. If you haven't turned tail and run by then, I will not, I repeat, will not be held responsible for my actions. Now, did you understand that? Or do I need to find a way to say I'm gonna kick your ass in less syllables so you can understand."

Obviously they hadn't understood it because in the next second, one of the man's annoying friends had charged at her with a knife. He slashed. She dodged. He swiped. She ducked. And then in one smooth motion, she jumped up and brought her foot around to connect with the man's head. He went down. And he went down hard.

She smiled and brushed her hair out of her face. "Who's next?" She asked.

Within the next five minutes, Faye got the action she'd been craving. The catalyst needed to get rid of her pent up, Spike Spiegel anger. She kicked and punched like a fighting genius. It was something she could only do when she was so angry (or in other cases much different than this one scared) the mercenary part of her mind took over the human part, and she became a one-woman killing machine. 

It was almost funny really. Spike had definitely held back during their fight, but then, so had she. He'd seen her survival instinct kick in, but he had yet to see the Faye Valentine who had done horrible things before she'd met him. He didn't know the alter ego she'd tried so hard to kill and bury. The one who threatened to consume her right then and there in her fit of anger and pain.

She distanced herself carefully, gaining control over herself and finished the fight quickly, efficiently, and with no casualties. 

When they were all lying at her feet, groaning, and in pain, she wiped her hands on her black jeans and made her way to the Redtail. She had to find somewhere to relax. A place to sleep for the night before she went back to the Bebop. A few moments of walking and her mind was cleared and a small smile made its way across her face.

"Hmm . . . that felt good. No, better than good. That felt wonderful." She said out loud, smiling wider, and relishing in the way her sore knuckles stung as she hooked her hands behind her head. 

That oily guy's abs had been harder than she'd thought.

  
  


A/N: so what did you think? Definitely not as chopped up as the other chapter. (A good thing, I think). And hopefully a little better and easier to read. Anyway, please review. Bye! ^.~


	3. Wishful Thinking

Wonderful

By: Celtic Fang

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. ::sniff:: All original characters belong to their respective owners, and not me. ::sigh:: But . . . the plot is mine!!! All mine!!! Muahahahahah ::hack, cough, sputter:: Damn allergies . . . ^^;

Warnings: Still a lot of cussing.

A/N: Hey. Sorry updates take so long. ::sigh:: I'm lazy and busy so I don't do much when I should, and when I want to I can't. Anyway, because of that, I decided that I won't do anymore story editing. For those of you who've read this story before, that means the lemon later on in the story stays. Eventually I'll get around to rewriting and stuff, but until them I don't have time. ^.^; In the meantime, though, please read, enjoy, and review! ^.~

Chapter Three: Wishful Thinking

  
  


What kind of things does a person regret? Often times too many to count. Sometimes little things, like not calling someone lately, when you told them you'd keep in touch. Sometimes they're big things, like not telling a loved one just how much they meant to you before they died.

Then there are the things that really shouldn't be regretted. It wasn't as if they were really wrong. They weren't crimes, they weren't heinous acts of violence. They were just things that happened that someone wishes, or maybe knows, shouldn't have. 

Those are the worst feelings of regret. Because, while what was done shouldn't have been done, you can't really regret doing it. Because at the time you were glad you were doing it. And you know that if you had it to do over, you'd do it again. And you regret that thought, because you shouldn't have enjoyed it in the first place. And then you regret having regrets, because they don't allow you to enjoy life to the fullest or to have fun. 

Or to move on.

~*~

"Have you ever done something you really regret, even if there's no real reason to regret it?"

Jet glanced sideways at Spike and then shrugged. "Sure, I guess everyone regrets doing something even if it was a perfectly okay thing to do. So what'd you do this time?"

Spike sighed. "It doesn't matter. I can't take it back, no matter how much I want to."

"But I thought that this whole conversation started because you don't *really* want to take it back." Jet said, snipping off an errant branch on one of his precious bonsai trees.

Spike leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's the thing though. I did something that, at the time, seemed like a good idea. Hell, it still seems like it was a good idea now. But I know I shouldn't have done it and that's where this regret is coming from, I guess."

"Does this have anything to do with Faye's leaving so suddenly?" Jet asked, keeping his gaze carefully trained on the tree before him.

"Yeah."

"And I take it it wasn't a fight that pushed her away, am I right?"

"Yeah."

Jet set down his small garden tool and turned to face Spike. "Look, what you and Faye do? I don't really want or need to know. You're not kids and even if you were, I'm not your old man or your legal guardian. So frankly, whatever's going on isn't my business. But, if I was your dad I'd tell you something like, you need to do right by her or at least let her know where you stand. Or maybe, instead, I'd call you a jackass and go on and on about how maybe you should give her a chance because she's a great woman who probably doesn't deserve you but for whatever reason wants you anyway." 

He shrugged again and turned back to his tree. "I have no hand in your life Spike, you've made that apparent before. But take my advice when I say, don't leave her hangin' and don't lead her on. You know how good Faye is with a gun. You're taking your life in your hands if you decide to pull shit like that."

Spike chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah. Thanks Jet."

But Jet wasn't listening, he was too busy with his plants.

~*~

Faye hopped out of the Red Tail after it had docked in the Bebop and glanced around. Good, no one. She had to admit that she was happy for that. She wasn't quite ready to see anyone, namely Spike, just yet. 

She tugged on the hem of her shorts nervously as she thought about just what it would be like to have to talk to him. Tense, it'd be tense. Definitely. And she'd blush. Yes there would be a lot of blushing. She rolled her eyes and started walking. Hell, if things went the way she thought they would, he'd just walk right past her without saying a word. Look through her like she didn't exist. And she didn't need that. Of all the reactions she could possibly get from him, she didn't need that one.

"So, where'd you go?"

Faye stopped suddenly and stiffened. Damn! She hadn't seen him anywhere. She hadn't sensed him, hadn't heard him. She'd thought she was home free. Obviously she wasn't.

"I went," she said. "To a bar, if it's any of your business."

"Oh? Meet any interesting people?"

She turned around, her hands on her hips. "As a matter of fact I did. I ran into a couple of horny bozos who wanted me to screw them senseless for free."

Spike raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall. "And you didn't go with them?"

"Of course I didn't!" Faye cried, glaring at Spike. "God, what do you take me for? A slut?"

"If the shoe fits." He told her.

Her eyes blazed. "Look, I already kicked some complete stranger's ass for calling me a slut in so many words. But I know you. And I hate you. And I'll do a lot worse than kick your ass if you don't stop being such a jerk."

Spike grinned. "You can't even throw a punch right, how are you possibly going to manage to hurt me?" He said, his voice sounding smug and annoying in Faye's ears. "And besides, I don't think you hate me. You certainly didn't hate me the other night."

She clenched her fists. "Obviously dying twice didn't do anything to improve your manners." She muttered. "You're still a complete asshole."

Spike shrugged. "At least I've come to terms with my short comings. You, on the other hand, are still in denial."

Faye rolled her eyes and forced her fingers to relax. "At least I don't walk around knowing I'm a son of a bitch and not doing anything about it."

How on earth could Faye have ever thought he'd walk right past her? She grimaced inwardly. She'd thought that that was the worst reaction she could get. She was wrong. Him completely ignoring her wasn't a horrid reaction. It was wishful thinking.

Faye turned away from him with a disgruntled sigh. "You know what? I'm not in the mood for this right now, okay? I've put up with your crap ever since I've met you and I'm beyond tired of it. So today, I'm not gonna put up with it anymore."

He sighed. "Don't be like this Faye."

She turned on him. "Be like what? I know you hate independent women Spike. You like women you can order around. Or women who follow you around like lovesick bitches with their snouts constantly up your ass. Women like Julia. But I'm not like her. I'm nobody's bitch. I'm nobody's slut. And I'm tired of you treating me like I'm both!"

Spike's russet eyes narrowed and Faye's own eyes widened and clashed with his as his hand lashed out and he gripped her upper arm. Hard. He yanked her against him, pulled her up his body until they were face to face and there was hardly any room between them.

"Maybe I've only been treating you like you deserve to be treated, did you ever think of that? Or maybe that's all I see when I look at you. A slutty, idiot, bitch of a woman who I wish I'd never laid eyes alone, let alone *known* for the past six years."

Faye's own eyes narrowed and sparked with emerald flames. "Oh, you think I'm a slut huh? And I'm an idiot? Well, maybe I'm mistaken but *I'm* not the chick who decided to sex up her boyfriend's best friend behind his back, causing an internal war that would eventually go down in syndicate history. *I'm* not the one who ruined the relationship between two best friends who, in the end, almost killed each other, destroying an entire syndicate in the process. And *I'm* not the one who went and got herself *shot* causing the love of her life more grief than her entire being was probably worth. So then, who is the *real* idiot?"

Spike glared at her. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Faye glared back. "I think that I do. Now let go of me."

"Gladly." He muttered, thrusting Faye away from him.

She staggered a couple of steps before righting herself. 

"I don't know why I even came back. I was so much happier when you were dead." She growled.

"Believe me, I was much more content without you around too. And if your boyfriend was still alive I'd have been more than glad to leave you to him."

"He wasn't my boyfriend." Faye said softly before turning and stalking out of the hangar.

~*~

Spike watched her go and then plowed a hand through his hair. He didn't understand just what had happened. Why they'd fought like that. Why, as completely stupid as it sounded, they couldn't get along. The animosity they felt toward each other made no sense.

Spike knew on some level that they should have been best friends. They were so alike it was uncanny. Both stubborn, both lazy, both of their internal rage mechanisms were over sensitive. They'd both been through hellish lives. They'd both lost people they'd loved. They'd both been betrayed and hurt. But maybe that was the problem. They were too much alike.

Because it wasn't as if either of them were the most open of people. They didn't like to share their feelings and emotions. They didn't want people to know what they were thinking, when they were thinking it, and why. But while they didn't want that, they needed it. Even if they kept denying it. 

Spike sighed and thought back. So, maybe he was the one who denied it. Faye had tried to reach out to him and Jet a few times. She'd done it so subtly though, that neither of the lunkheads had a chance of figuring it out. And when they didn't pick up on it Faye had been demoralized. At least that's what Jet had told Spike one day, after they had all been reunited and he had figured out just why Faye was the way she was. 

The theory did hold water. And maybe that was why they didn't get along. Spike didn't want a companion who wanted to talk to him about things. He didn't want a partner or a life mate. And Faye, well, Faye both wanted and needed those things. And even though Spike had known that she wanted those things from him, he didn't want any part of it. 

So Faye was resentful because Spike kept pushing her away. And until he could accept her as a part of his life, neither of them would be happy with each other.

Spike rolled his eyes. Okay, so he'd figured that out. Now what? He supposed he could apologize. But that wasn't his style. He could at least try to talk to her as if she was a human being instead of an annoying brat, but he didn't know if that was physically, mentally, or emotionally possible for him.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way to the kitchen where he could hear, and smell, Jet cooking. Oh well, there really was no use in stressing about it. Faye would cool down and then Spike would talk to her. And hopefully it would be a calm, rational conversation that didn't involve either of them yelling their heads off or pissing the other off.

But as he made his way to the kitchen, he realized that a rational conversation that involved him and Faye wasn't just impossible. It was wishful thinking.

Dream on, Space Cowboy

~*~

A/N: okay, so what did you think? I know it wasn't the greatest and I didn't even use the word 'wonderful' once. ^^; I'm so pathetic. BTW, about Faye's 'boyfriend' it isn't anyone you'd know. He's an original character that I'm the process of making up. He'll show up in Awakenings. Anyway, that's all folks! Don't forget to R&R.


End file.
